The Serpent's Children
by VenusDeOmnipotent
Summary: Pansy? Draco? Always seen together. HATE each other's guts, though. How will this work out? Chapter four up! Hogsmeade trip goes a little screwy..
1. Chapter One: Why that little

Title: The Serpent's Children

Rating: PG-13 cos of a lot of hard language

Disclaimer: I, VenusDeOmnipotent, do not claim ownership of any recognizable elements in this story, nor do I use these elements with permission or for profit. Good. Now read my fic.

Dedications: Okay, this one's dedicated to MioneMalfoy who loves Tom Felton more than I do. She's obsessed. 

a/n: right. This idea was really hot, I hope it works. It's a strange concept, to say the least, but shucks, what can I say. The timelines get kinda screwed up, so just place each passage in wherever you think is right…

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Chapter One – An exceptionally bad day.

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Pansy Parkinson was having a bad day.

Not any ordinary bad day, which was normally at least bearable in its own right. No, it was the sort of bad day which left you cursing every available object in your way. How dare they exist in such a manner? To the minute, she had placed the Curse of the Bogies on a number of sometimes innocent suits of armor, two apples and an armchair. She had also flung an unsuspecting beaker of liquefied nightshade to the ground because it had caused a small slit in her finger and, in an act of true Slytherin ruthlessness, transfigured a masculine looking gold chalice into a crystal, flowery shot glass. Hah.

It had begun in the morning, as most bad days do. Then, as the hours passed painfully on, it got worse, and worse, and worse.

Professor Snape had restricted her to Slytherin Tower until dinner that day, insufferable bloody git. When rationally thought about, this was probably because of the fact that one whole beaker of bubbling liquid belladonna impacting with sufficient velocity on a granite floor was a recipe for disaster. It had turned out well. Thirty pairs of singed eyebrows and a nearly demolished Potions classroom said so.

Thus, she was on her way to her dormitory, her temporary prison, in the worst of moods. Passers by got out of her way and those who didn't found themselves on the floor with the corridor walls at their backs. She was pretty powerful, as underage witches go. Naturally, this was because she had extra training at home, given her by her parents. She wasn't the only one who received special 'lessons'. Several shouts of "Hey, isn't that illegal?!" followed by hushed whispers along the lines of "Leave it, Parkinson's got her knickers in a twist again" could be heard all along the corridors.

She turned left into the corridor that led to Slytherin tower. She didn't see somebody else heading the same way.

Not too far away, Blaise Zabini was pushed off balance.

"Hey!" she cried.

"Forget it, Blaise, Malfoy's shoved Snape's asphodel tube up his own arse again," murmured her friend, Arienne Flint, from the wall.

Blaise rubbed her shoulders. "Sodding hell, this is the second time today! I'm going to have bruises all over my damn back if this keeps up."

"Yeah?" said Arienne, picking up a Transfiguration book. "I assume you've had a run in with Pansy as well, then. I've been hearing stories all morning."

"Two of them, then. Are they both headed for the Tower?"

The two Slytherin's looked at each other with similar expressions. Wordlessly, they gathered up their possessions and took off in the direction of 'away from the oncoming tempest'.

The collision had been spectacular. It was like a Mount Vesuvius had erupted a second time. In the space of five seconds, there were roughly twenty school books lying on the ground, covered in a rather large amount of chimera acid, and all hell broken loose.

"Watch where you're going!"

Pansy got up and whirled around, finger poised, ready to curse whichever poor, innocent soul had had the idiocy to crash into her. Then, she took notice of that infuriating blonde hair. Her eyes widened and she turned slightly red.

_"You!"___

"Parkinson?"

Draco Casper Malfoy II brushed himself off angrily. He had been having the worst day in his packed life ever and was in no mood to be running around with acid, and now the only person that ever got on his nerves more than Potty Potter was here to make his life more of a living hell.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy, can't you even concentrate on walking a meter without screwing up somebody else's time?"

"As I understand it, you have all the time in the world today, why don't you spend it looking ahead of you instead of daydreaming about that prick Boot?"

Pansy reddened.

"At least I don't spend half a damned hour in the mornings trying, and failing I might add, to perfect my hair," she said quietly, dangerously quietly.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "As I can clearly tell by being forced to glance at that awful vipers nest on your, for lack of a better word, head! Your home cat's fur looks better than yours, at least it would if she weren't always cavorting with that tom in the kitchens, although you can hardly tell the difference in your so called house," he spat, quivering. Said hair was now coming unruly, falling over his eyes and sticking up in strange places.

The extremely few students who had enough guts to stick around to watch the argument dropped their jaws collectively and made a hurried effort to get the hell out of there. Insulting Pansy Parkinson's family Persian, and even worse; the house, was not the smartest thing to try if you wanted to live.

"You," she uttered, searching for suitable words, "you BASTARD!" she shrieked. "I don't know who the hell you think you are but you stay the hell away from me, or so help me Salazar I will hit you with a hex so strong, you won't even remember my name!"

"Indeed?" Draco was nearly yelling now. "I should be so lucky, you miserable wench!"

"Hah. Your father would murder you, and so would Narcissa if she could even lift her finger for the effort."

The two were now standing there with their fists clenched by their sides, glaring at each other with their faces inches apart.

"Stay the hell away from my mother, hag. I wouldn't be the only one under my father's wrath, and you know it."

Pansy's eyes darkened.

"You know what?" she said, almost sweetly. Draco hesitated, suspiciously. Pansy broke the stare and snapped her fingers. Her books jumped into her arms.

"I have a better figure than you?" asked Draco.

She turned to him smiling with her head cocked, and then her expression turned stony.

"Go FUCK yourself."

She whirled on her heels and stalked off, leaving Draco boiling with rage.

"Better than fucking you, at any rate!" he managed to call after her.

Pretending not to have heard him and not looking back, Pansy shouted, "And tell Lucius that he can go fuck himself, too!"

Draco blinked. He couldn't think clearly. That bitch! Ooh, she made him so mad…

He forced himself to breathe. He couldn't.

_*Flashback*_

Draco tugged at his father's sleeve.

"Father," he said. "What's _she_ doing here?"

Lucius Malfoy frowned at his son. They were seated in The Castle, one of Diagon Alley's more reputable dining places, and the Parkinson family had just come in.

"Boy," he replied coldly, "what have I told you? You need to learn to treat certain people with a certain amount of respect and civility. Now stand up, don't be rude."

Draco rose with his father. They greeted the Parkinsons formally and everybody sat down. Pansy was looking at him with well masked antagonism. Then he noticed that she had just acquired a new wand, one that looked just like his, one that fit with the regulations of a certain school. Draco's eyes widened in horror and realization.

They opened up their menus.

Pansy frowned. "Mummy," she whispered behind her menu. "Why are we eating with _him?"_

"Hmm?" said Penelope lightly. "Oh, now Pansy, you mustn't think so badly of people. Draco is a charming young gentleman."

"He's disgusting! He's spoilt and lazy, and-," she lowered her voice even further, "he's always fussing about his hair!"

"Father," Draco hissed. "She's girly and poor and no fun at all. I don't want to go to school with her!"

"Can't I go to Durmstrang instead? Suzie's going there, she's very happy."

"That's enough, Draco."

"That's enough, Pansy."

The two nearly-eleven year olds sulked and listened as their parents tried to lecture them without embarrassing themselves behind their menus.

"You _will_ learn the proper respect for Pansy, Draco."

"After all, he _is _your betrothed."

Draco frowned. "What's betrothed?"

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well? Okay. This sort of came to me and if anyone cares, I KNOW that I shouldn't be starting another story when I haven't completed a single one yet except for the cho/cedric one which you should check out it's really sweet but that's not the point. 

This just came to me, alright?

Really!!!!!

And I know I should be working on all of my other stuff, but check it out anyway, okays?

Review…review…review!


	2. Chapter Two: Casper

Title: The Serpent's Children

Rating: PG13 for the language

A/n: Teeheehee, thanks. Should I make this a romance or a friendship thing cos, naturally, neither one is gonna die. Duh.

Thank you for reviewing, betrothed means sort of committed..well in this sense, Draco and Pansy's parents have arranged for them to be married when they grow up… the Malfoys are still very, very old fashioned, so arranged marriages are the norm, blahblahblah….heheheh…

Also, this Draco is mostly based on the movie Draco, i.e. the snobby, weaselly, gift stealing little twit, oh but he's not evil. And Pansy is puggish but she's not evil either. Does that make sense? Really, I don't know..

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another flashback, by the way, I can't be arsed to think up chapter names. 

Malfoy Manor – 1990

Draco put down his broomstick on its rack lovingly, meticulously. He stepped back to make sure it was secure, then felt an invisible jab in his stomach.

"I'm coming, father!" he grumbled.

Lucius Malfoy was calling him to the Manor, that much was clear. As a very early present, Lucius had placed a sort of curse on his son. It was illegal but effective, a sharp, shooting pain through the abdomen when delayed if summoned. It worked very well.

It must be one of father's friends over again. Lucius was always inviting strange people for tea and something-or-other-in-the-drawing-room-later-on. Draco had, in the past, asked his mother what went on in there, but he had since learned not to ask questions. He now thought it was some old man thing, or perhaps karaoke, somebody had before suggested.

He wondered who it would be, for Draco was usually there to keep his father's guests' children company while their fathers were occupied. Moving into a jog, Draco recalled the last visitor. Vincent Crabbe was incredible thick. He hoped it wasn't them again. Young Cecil Avery had been alright, but Lara Nott had been awful. The girl had put him through a horrifying makeover, three years his senior. He had to admit that she did quite well with his hair, but the makeup was almost traumatizing for Draco.

This time, there was a good chance of it being somebody new. He had seen a mahogany coach pull up while flying over the courtyard. Strangely, there hadn't been a coat of arms on the thing.

He pushed the front doors open and stepped in.

"Master Draco," exclaimed a house elf. "Master is most late, he must hurry!"

Draco snatched his cloak off and dumped it unceremoniously onto the waiting figure and walked briskly towards the parlor, where father's friends were always entertained for tea.

Picking a leaf out of his hair, he entered the little room.

"Ah, Draco," said his father, looking at him in the way which said 'you're bloody lucky you're not later than you already are'. Everybody in the parlor stood. Tradition was seven eighths of this household, and of the households of all associated with it.

"Good Merlin, Draco," said his mother in clipped, aristocratic tones. She was still seated, and took a sip of tea from her exquisitely crafted cup. "What _have_ you been doing all afternoon? You're positively filthy!"

Draco glanced down at his nearly muddy robes.

"I had a slight accident with the great Weed, Mother, nothing to worry about."

The Manor's expansive grounds and gardens were not stranger to sentient plants. The Weed was a particularly grouchy elm tree near the back of the house.

"Oh, no!" Narcissa flitted, beckoning. After a moment's hesitation, he went to his mother who embraced him. "Are you hurt, darling? I've always disapproved of your flying so much, especially in those areas of the house."

"No, Mother."

"Good," said Lucius brusquely. Their guests, a man and a woman the same ages as Draco's parents shifted uncomfortably, bashfully silent.

Narcissa shot a look at him, but masked it in the space of a split second. "Oh, but how rude of me," she said airily, releasing her son. "Mercutio, Penelope, this is my son, Draconis Casper the Second. Draco dear," she said, pushing him towards the couple like a mother hen proudly does her chick, "go and say hello!"

Draco straightened up and bowed. He shook the man's hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said. Then he turned to face his guest's wife. He bowed again, took her hand and placed a kiss on it.

"Charmed."

Penelope Parkinson giggled slightly at the sight of a nine year old following such mature custom.

"The pleasure is mine, Draco," she said kindly.

Draco raised his head, and was aware of a shuffling sound behind the woman's back. Furrowing his eyebrows, Draco tilted his head. Against the wall, a young girl retreated further into the comforting shadows of her mother's cloak.

"It's alright, child," called Narcissa. "Draco won't bite."

"Come out, dear," said Penelope in a calming tone.

"Pansy, you mustn't be rude to our hosts, do you hear?" said her father.

The girl glanced at Mercutio then stepped into the light.

She stood shyly in front of Draco.

"My name is Pansy," she said, curtsying slightly.

Draco hesitated.

"Go on, Draco," warned Lucius.

"Draco Malfoy at your service," he said politely as he placed bowed and kissed her hand.

The girl blushed, unaccustomed to the treatment.

Around them, the Malfoys and the Parkinsons beamed.

"Mercutio," said Lucius coolly, now that the whole ordeal of introduction was done. "Shall we adjourn to the drawing room?" 

Mr. Parkinson's expression changed. "Why certainly, Lucius. Penelope?"

"I'll be fine, dearest," lied Penelope. "Nacissa has graciously invited me for a stroll through the gardens."

"Yes, it's such a lovely day out," said Narcissa gaily. "Draco, dear, would you give young Mistress Parkinson a tour of the Manor, I'm sure she'd love to see it."

Draco looked over at the girl, whose expression indicated that she would like to do no such thing.

"I was going to have a bath, as a matter of fact-," he began, but was cut off by the raising of his father's eyebrows. "- but as soon as I am finished, it would be my honor to show you Malfoy Manor, Miss Parkinson."

Pansy, having also been warned by her parents, followed him out of the parlor and up a grand staircase. They stopped once Draco realized this.

"Why are you following me?" he demanded, rounding on her.

Pansy frowned. "I'm supposed to follow you!"

"Weren't you listening? I'm going to clean up first!"

"And what do you want me to do until then? Play with dolls?"

"You might."

"You're supposed to entertain me!"

Draco stared at the girl before him. "Entertain yourself for a moment, can't you?"

"You can't leave me alone! My mother would kill me!"

"Look, I can't very well bring you into the bathroom with me can I?"

"You could at least leave me somewhere."

"Alright," he said, thinking. "Caliere!"

A servant girl appeared.

"Take her to the library. Pamela, go read a book or something. I'll come get you in a bit. Alright?"

"It's Pansy."

"I don't care. Are you still here? Caliere!" he motioned for them too leave.

Caliere marched off with a sharp, "Follow me, miss," and Pansy left with her nose in the air.

'Twit,' she thought. He was most disagreeable, and very, very dirty. Pansy couldn't understand why she had to be here, anyway. Her parents had never taken her to their friends' houses before.

She crashed ungracefully into a suit of armor.

"Miss?" said Caliere sharply.

"Hmm?" said a very red Pansy, rubbing her elbows. "Oh. It's a very nicely decorated house, isn't it?"

The servant girl stared at her in what she hoped was a polite way, uncomprehending. "The library is this way, miss," she said, condescendingly.

Pansy followed her, fuming once again. She might not have been so prestigious as a Malfoy, but she didn't have to take disrespect from servants. 

"I'll find it myself, thank you," she said huffily, turning on her heel. She stalked off in another direction.

Right. Now what?

She wandered around for a bit and found herself in a hall which had probably once been one of the lesser ballrooms. It was now empty except for old desks, cracked mirrors, and a lot of dust. There was one particular spot with an old, dilapidated chest in front of it. This was not the extraordinary thing about this spot, it was that somebody had taken pains to conceal something, and Pansy intended to see it. After a while, and much grunting and heaving, she stepped back to be greeted by a grand painting of Casper Malfoy the First.

"Good evening," he said, tilting his head calculatingly.

Pansy suppressed a gasp. Lord Casper was very, very handsome. He had the characteristically Malfoy silver hair, the same aristocratic cheek structure that her hosts possessed. Of course, the line of Malfoy were all of that, but Lord Casper was _different_ somehow. Pansy looked into his eyes, and found the difference there. These were not the cool, stormy grey eyes of Lucius and Draco. They were brown, as brown as her own, and projected a quality that held warmth, congeniality and that feline, Malfoy gleam.

His gaze didn't falter, and Pansy hurriedly remembered her manners.

"G-good evening, s-sir," she whispered.

"Ah, so you are not a descendant of mine, then," the painting said, taking in her hair, robes, shoes…

"No, Lord Casper, j-just a visitor."

"I see." It was not a malicious comment, as Draco's would have been, simply a fact.

"And what is your name, child?" he asked kindly.

"Pansy Parkinson, sir," she replied cautiously. Was there a reason this Lord's portrait had been so carefully hidden?

"No need to worry, Miss Parkinson. Or is it Miss Pansy?"

"I am an only child, if that's what you're asking."

"Miss Parkinson, then. As I said, do not fret, I bear you no ill will. I was kept behind that dusty dresser by the imbeciles who currently live here. Perhaps you've met them? Lucille, if I recall correctly."

"Lucius, sir."

"Right. Are you a Hogwarts student as well?"

"I expect I shall be. I won't be starting school for a year."

"But of course, if you are in this house for any reason, you already know some magic?"

"Er, yes. But I don't have a wand yet, only my hands."

"As the best of us begin with," he smiled.

Pansy was getting uncomfortable, talking to this hundred year old Malfoy lord, so she made to excuse herself.

"I should return to my host, he may be missing me."

"I doubt it," said Lord Casper shrewdly. "I've met the young boy. Bit of a ponce, isn't he? Gets all bothered about his hair all the time?"

Pansy giggled. He offered her a dusty old stool as a seat, and she took it and sat down.

"Yes, that's him I think. He's named after you, right?"

"I believe so, sadly. Well," he said, shifting his weight, "vain though he be, he does come by and talk to the ancestors once in a while."

"Damn right!" piped another, older voice. Pansy whirled. Somehow, she had seemed to miss another portrait, hanging.

"Good evening, sir," she said dutifully.

"Pay him no heed, little one," said Lord Casper smoothly. "The old ones are slightly less than worth talking to."

A new voice broke in. "Casper Annas Malfoy, you take that back!"

The patriarch's eyes widened. Another painted figure came into the picture.

"Why, Elizabeth! Won't you say hello to Miss Pansy Parkinson?" he stuttered, trying to sound innocent.

Lady Elizabeth Malfoy gave him a look that said, very clearly, 'I'll deal with you later,' and then turned to the amused, albeit awkward young girl in the real world before her. "Why, hello there!" she sang.

"Hello, madam," Pansy said, smiling. She liked this woman, decidedly. She was beautiful, to say the least, all tanned skin and green eyes, and brilliant red hair. And she _twinkled_ somehow.

"Dearest, I was merely entertaining a neglected guest," resumed Lord Casper in the tones of a very worried husband.

"Neglected? Not by little Draco, surely?"

"Actually, I'm just waiting for him to finish his bath."

"You see?" said Lord Casper. "He's spurned her! Cast her aside!"

"Oh, do be quiet Casper," said Lady Elizabeth. "I'm Lady Elizabeth, are you lost?"

"Not precisely, only a little."

"Good Lord. And my husband? Has he been up to his usual tricks again?"

"Oh no, Lady Elizabeth," said Pansy eagerly. "He's very nice."

Lady Elizabeth softened for a minute. "Well, yes, he is rather," she said, taking her husband's hand.

Pansy smiled.

At that moment, Draco burst into the room.

"_Miss _Parkinson, I must ask you _not _to poke around in rooms which you are not familiar with! You could have died!"

He strode over and Pansy swore she could see smoke coming out of his ears. At least he was clean.

"I'm terribly sorry Lord and Lady Malfoy, but I think I have to go."

Draco had arrived.

"And you two!" he shouted. "What are you doing out? You could have been _seen_! Mr. Parkinson would have murdered you!"

"Gods, Draco," drawled Lord Casper. "Everyday, you become more like a nagging aunt I once had. Aunt Veronica, I believe."

Somewhere, Aunt Veronica yelled, "Hey!"

Draco narrowed his eyes at the painted figures.

"Come now, Draco, it was only a bit of fun. Besides, young Pansy here is most charming."

"_That_ is beside the point!" he stopped. "Charming? Really?"

Behind him, Pansy pouted.

"Now look, you've upset her," said Lady Elizabeth. "It's alright, child. He didn't mean it."

Draco was now fuming very obviously.

"MiLady," he said very slowly, struggling to keep in control. "I must ask you to excuse me, the Miss and I must take our leave."

"You may leave, Draco," she said kindly. "Such lovely manners," she murmured to her husband.

Draco turned to Pansy and pointed to the door. "Out. Now."

"No need to be mean, Draco," said Lord Casper.

"I will deal with _you _later!" he said imperiously, before bowing to Lady Elizabeth.

Then he raised his hands and concentrated, and the discarded piled of old furniture moved back into place.

Then he strode out and, in a rather bad mood about everything, force fed Malfoy history into the brain of Pansy Parkinson, somehow managing to shoe  her the entire Manor in the space of fifteen minutes.

"Don't tell anybody that you were in that room, do you hear?"

Pansy nodded, slightly scared. Somewhere in front of them, Messrs Malfoy and Parkinson stepped out of the drawing room.

"Just say that we've been playing outside, alright? Tell my father how much you enjoyed the fountains or something."

"Alright, I'm not stupid."

Draco shook his head and left her where she stood.

A minute later, her family regrouped and they left Malfoy Manor for the first time.

But not for the last.

Inside the storeroom, two muffled voices could be heard.

"Did you see his hair? How could anybody spend so much time on such silly things. I do hope he's not going to turn out like Lesley."

"Get stuffed, Casper!"

"Shut up, both of you. Draco is a perfectly wonderful young gentleman, and I will not tolerate anymore incessant chatter from you."

"Sorry, Elizabeth."

"Sorry, dear."

Well?!?!?!!!?!?!??!!?

Oh god…..well this was the first time they met, obviously, this chappie was mostly filler. Next chapter, either the Hippogriff bite or the Yule Ball incident. Tell me which while you REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And, of course, try to read my other stories while you're at it. Pwetty please?


	3. Chapter Three: Routine

Title:The Serpent's Children  
  
Rating: Yep,PG13, language is pretty bad in this one.  
  
Hi all of you. Sorry it took such a bloody long time to update. I'm trying to take the writing methodically ya know, each one at a time. Anyway, this took some time and I hope someone likes it. The story's taking a more serious turn and the plot's coming out, or at least peeking out of the shadows for once. I hope that doesn't repel anyone or something. It's holidays now, v happy, and have watched pirates and Italian and all that, so, so happy!!  
  
Please keep reading and reviewing, and enjoy the chapter. I did.  
  
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Hogwarts - present day  
  
Pansy relaxed and breathed deeply. Thank whatever the hell was up there at the moment for hot baths. She had retreated straight to the Prefect's bathroom upon getting into Slytherin Tower, and at this point in time, nothing mattered but the great big bathtub she was in and the smell of jasmine-kissed incense. She left the water running and disappeared under the bubbles to rinse her hair, the magically-produced sounds of the Weird Sisters blaring out in the bathroom.  
  
Bliss.  
  
Bliss which was, unfortunately for her, extremely short-lived. The first thing she heard when she came up, pushing her brown hair back, was a scream. Herself screaming as well, she rubbed the water from her eyes to see one almost completely naked Draco Malfoy standing at the edge of the bath. He was holding a small towel to his..um..hips.. and cursing like there was no tomorrow. Shrieking again, she realized thankfully that the surface of the water was completely covered by foam, and therefore that she was decent. Sort of, anyway.  
  
"Malfoy, what the HELL do you think you're doing?" she yelled, trying to sink as far below the little bubbles as possible.  
  
"Fuck, I thought it couldn't get any bloody worse," he muttered, frantically trying to get his boxer shorts back on.  
  
"You have three seconds to get your perverted arse out of this bathroom, Draco Malfoy, or so help me Merlin -,"  
  
"Or what?"  
  
Pansy's eyes registered the Great Blonde Prat staring at her with his eyes narrowed, clad in grey silk underwear, and felt herself literally boiling with rage.  
  
"Or you will lose your reason for wearing boxers," she said, controlling herself with all her might.  
  
Malfoy's eyes widened for a split second before he turned them into a "terrified" expression.  
  
"Dear gods, you mean to come out of there! Mercy, I beg of you. If you do that, I will surely swear off women and turn queer!"  
  
Pansy's face went red from pure fury. She grabbed a nearby bottle and hurled it with deadly accuracy. Malfoy, being many things but substantially a Quidditch Seeker, dodged literally by a hair, yelping as he did so.  
  
"Bitch!" he cried, rubbing at the huge blob of women's lily-scented shampoo now on his head.  
  
"OUT!" Pansy shouted, grabbing another bottle and chucking it at the now hastily retreating Prat. "Get out, get OUT, GET OUT!" she screamed.  
  
She waved her right hand, and all of his possessions levitated about a foot into the air. She slapped her palm onto the side of the bath, and a cloak, a uniform, a prefects badge and a few books collided with the wall outside the bathroom. Upon hearing another yell of irritation from outside, she immediately snapped her fingers, slamming the door magically with some satisfaction.  
  
'Hah,' she thought.  
  
Pansy relaxed back into the hot water, closing her eyes and trying, unsuccessfully, to block Malfoy out of her head. 'Bastard,' she said mentally.  
  
That night, Pansy sat herself down at the dinner table across 'Malfoy's two goons', as Vincent and Gregory were commonly referred to. They weren't that bad, just really unfortunate enough, like her, to be saddled with him. She was not in a mood to be nice to them, for she knew that HE would probably be coming to sit here as well. As luck would have it, the rest of the damn table was completely full of eating, joking, hexing and gossiping Slytherin students, and she was stuck where..ah bugger.  
  
She was soon even further irritated by some strangely high-pitched giggling next to her. Dreading what she knew she would see, she turned her head slowly to the right to discover that she was seated next to none other than who must have been the most annoying people on the planet; two juniors named Marion and Suzanne. Both from well-to-do families, although of course not so well-to-do as the Malfoys or Parkinsons, both obsessed with their looks, and both obsessed with a certain blonde prat.  
  
"Hello, Pansy!" they chorused.  
  
Irked, Pansy forced a smile at them. "Good evening," she said.  
  
They looked at each other. Then, Marion spoke a little nervously, sounding rather contrived.  
  
"If it doesn't bother you too much, Pansy dear, would you mind moving over?" she said.  
  
Pansy was surprised. "What?" she asked. Marion squeaked slightly and drew back.  
  
Suzanne piped up. "Sorry, it's just that we were rather hoping to get to sit next to Draco," she said sweetly.  
  
Oh, Salazar.  
  
"Uh, sure," she choked out, scooting over to the side. She blinked, figuring how she could get out of dinner next to bloody Malfoy.  
  
The girls squealed and began chatting excitedly.  
  
"He'll be here any minute, right here!"  
  
"He is so hot after Quidditch practice, I always feel like melting!"  
  
Pansy raised her eyebrows, staring straight at her food.  
  
"I know! Especially his bangs, they're just sooo sexy."  
  
Now she was torn between feeling absolutely disgusted and trying to keep a straight face. She looked up, and Vincent gave her an apologetic smile.  
  
"Oh, oh, here he comes!! Act cool, act cool."  
  
Now she knew that she had to get out. Malfoy had made his way over and seated himself down right next to her.  
  
"Hi Draco!" the girls chimed, rather like trained house elves, Pansy noticed. Magically, she packed her food and picked it up.  
  
"Evening, ladies," he said smoothly.  
  
Pansy got up to leave, saying goodbye to Vincent and Gregory, not unnoticed by Malfoy.  
  
"Thank gods. I thought I might actually have to sit next to Parkinson while she attempted to eat. What a nightmare."  
  
Pansy growled, but returned her expression to normal as she turned to look down at Malfoy. She pretended to sniff at the air.  
  
"I say, Gregory," she said in her bitchiest tone. "Is that lily I smell?"  
  
A pink tinge grew on Draco's normally fair cheeks and his hand flew to his hair. Crabbe and Goyle burst into laughter. They had obviously already heard of the bathroom incident. Both of them stopped laughing at a glare from Draco. Their half of the Slytherin table fell silent, watching the two with anticipation and in a few cases, fear.  
  
Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Pansy. "You've got to watch what comes out of that mouth of yours, Parkinson."  
  
Pansy narrowed hers right back at him. "Don't you wish I had to, Malfoy," she said, before turning on her heel to exit the Great Hall.  
  
"What was she talking about, Draco?" asked Suzanne petulantly, bringing him back to dinner by practically attaching herself to his arm, much to the quickly masked chagrin of her friend.  
  
Draco turned back to the two girls wanting desperately to talk to him and drawled, "What is she ever talking about?"  
  
The girls giggled again, the table's occupants heaved a sigh and went on chatting, and dinner was resumed.  
  
'Damn, my food's cold,' thought Pansy, putting it down on her bed. It seemed as if the coming winters weren't so far off after all, the long walk up to the Prefect's dormitory had left her dinner nearly frozen. She stared at the pasta sadly. 'Bastard just has to ruin my life,' she thought. Oh well. Nothing a little magic couldn't fix.  
  
"Heat," she commanded softly. There was a slight glow as her food did her bidding. She picked up her plate and put it back onto her lap, burrowing her back deeper into her pillows. Then she picked up a novel and began to read, putting another forkful of penne into her mouth.  
  
It was warmer, but only a little. Nowhere near the temperature it was supposed to be. Pansy frowned, stopping her chewing. This could mean a few things. She was either burned out, ridiculously stressed or not concentrating. Or perhaps two of them, or possibly all three. She cursed, and tried again. The same thing happened with equally minimal rise in the food's temperature. 'Damn Malfoy. Damn him,' she thought, eating her miserably cold pasta viciously.  
  
Elsewhere, Draco was getting into his shower when he was rudely surprised by a huge snake in his bathroom.  
  
"Gaah!" he said. 'Why can't I go to the damn bathroom today without having the bollocks shocked out of me?' he wondered.  
  
The snake stared at him coolly, nearly smugly. It carried a slip of parchment in its mouth, which it put down before Draco gracefully. It raised its lovely neck up again and continued to stare at Draco. If it had had a nose, it would have been turned up.  
  
"Here," said Draco. "I'm not a bloody Parseltongue. Piss off. What d'you think you're looking at?"  
  
The snake narrowed its eyes at Draco, then turned daintily and slithered off with amazing speed.  
  
Draco picked up the dreaded parchment. Written on it was a specified time.  
  
"Bugger," he said.  
  
He was saying it again, nearly two hours later as he stalked down the corridor to another Prefect's dormitory. Checking that nobody was around, he said the password and then entered quietly. The room was dark save for the soothing blue flame of an enchanted candle. Cursing, he opened up the curtains on the four poster bed.  
  
Draco tried to pull off the bedcovers but the weight of a hell of a lot of books ('Gods this is messy,' he thought) plus some crockery said that perhaps this was not the best course of action. "Shit," he said, crawling up onto the bed. He had to take care not to stub his toes, knees, hands and other bits of his body as he made his way to the sleeping figure at the other end.  
  
After much tripping over and dropping off, and even getting bitten by mysterious objects he reached his destination. He jabbed it in the ribs.  
  
Nothing happened. He tried it again, and the sleeping basilisk turned slightly and reached up, effectively slapping Draco in the head before snuggling back into dear sleep.  
  
"Ow! Damn!" he said. Right. He'd had enough. "Get up, Parkinson!" he barked.  
  
Parkinson bolted upright in bed, eyes wide open, knocking Draco out of the bed and firing out the chronology of events happening in the five hundred and twelfth goblin war. It had been over gold.  
  
She stopped, her eyebrows furrowed. She looked about her, and heard a familiar voice cursing from the floor.  
  
"Malfoy?" she asked, half asleep. Half asleep though she was, her ever present intolerance for Draco manifested itself as if it were reflex. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing in my bed, you goddamn pervert? What the bleeding hell is wrong with you? Can't a person even rest in fucking peace without you fucking screwing up their fucking sleep? What do I have to do to get you the hell away from me?"  
  
"It's not a bed, it's a sty!" Draco retorted, rubbing his head because of her for the second time that day. "I always knew you were a damn pig but I didn't know how far you went. Bitch," he added, folding his arms and looking at her expectantly.  
  
Then she woke up. "Oh shit," she said, realizing exactly what he was doing in her bed.  
  
Draco merely nodded pointedly.  
  
"What time?" she asked  
  
"Thirty minutes. Ten til we have to go."  
  
Pansy practically jumped out of bed, striding to the bathroom soberly as possible when one's hair is sticking up in the funniest directions. Draco didn't laugh. He tried to sit down on her bed, but opted instead for a chair nearby when a fork poked his bum. There was nothing in his eyes that suggested that what he and Pansy were doing was in any way out of the ordinary. The same expression was on Pansy's face as she emerged form the bathroom two minutes later, tying her hair into a low bun. Solemn, thoughtful. Completely silent.  
  
She was clad in a black cloak identical to the one Draco was wearing. On them were huge hoods and identical silver clasps across the chest. Their hands and feet were covered in black leather gloves and boots. As a result, when their hoods were down, their identities were unintelligible, with no indication of their hair colours, facial feature or genders.  
  
Pansy walked over to her bed and closed up all the curtains as Draco walked over to a well known spot on a rug and sat down elegantly, folding his legs beneath him. "Locking up the barn, I see," he remarked. "Shut up," spat Pansy. She walked over to him and sat across him in the same manner. At a nod from Draco, the two Slytherins simultaneously put down their large hoods and removed that bit of the rug. Underneath the rug was smooth, cold stone. They stayed like this for some time. All of this was done as routinely as one might brush one's teeth in the morning. Without question or hesitation, not even resignation.  
  
At length, the stone melted away to reveal a small cavity in he floor. Inside the cavity was a stone carving of a skull and two snakes. Pansy and Draco held their hands just above the carving with practiced efficiency. "One," said Draco clearly. The eyes in the carved skull began to glow, dimly at first and then growing steadily brighter. "Two," replied Pansy. The glow turned a deep, pulsing red. At "Three," from Draco, they touched their gloved hands onto the now blinding glare, and disappeared.  
  
Seconds later, in a dark room, another two cloaked shadows appeared at the statue of the Dark Mark. They stood up with familiar synchronization and one of them led the way to an empty spot in the circle of identical shapes.  
  
Near them, a cool, low voice muttered, "You're late."  
  
"Forgive me," replied Draco equally inaudibly. He couldn't tell which cloaked shadow his father was, but he didn't need to. Neither moved nor reacted outwardly to one another. Beside Draco, Pansy kept silent, knowing full well what was to be done and what was not.  
  
Almost immediately, an ethereal figure appeared in the center of the circle. The silence which had previously shrouded the room now drowned it, increasing in volume until there was no space for anything but it.  
  
"My friends," said the ghostlike shape. "My family."  
  
One by one, the circle went down one knee, heads bowed.  
  
Lord Voldemort smiled and raised his hands. High backed chairs appeared behind every Death Eater present.  
  
"Let us begin."  
  
**************************************************************************** **********************************************  
  
A/R(not n you should notice cos I don't leave notes. This 'r' stands for rant):haha! Cliffie? Is that considered a cliffie? Cos I'm not sure. Yes, we all knew it, they are Death Eaters! Well, not precisely Death Eaters, more like long term initiates or something, ya know, junior and stuff. The Little Death Eater Society. Bet that would go down well. And they've been doing this for a long time, evidently. Please review!! There should be a few confusing bits in this chapter, but anything I can think of will be cleared up in due time. Ask questions or something.  
  
Anyway, thanks for reading, see you next chapter!! 


	4. Chapter Four: Awakenings

Wow! Chapter four after like….ages. hope you're still reading.. will revise the first few chaps…

Chapter 4

Pansy woke up next to Draco. Disgusted, she climbed out of bed and winced as she was hit by pain all over her body. Bumps, bruises and sores were occupying spaces hitherto undiscovered by Pansy. Gods, what had she done last night? Not Draco, certainly(she paled at the thought). Then she remembered the Death Eaters.

Cursing inwardly, she made her way out the door, checking first to see if the coast was clear. As luck would have it, a gaggle of her favourite Slytherin juniors picked that moment to turn the corner. She tried to duck back in as the annoying voices of Marion and Suzeanne rang out, "Pansy dahling!"

Foiled. She quickly removed her cloak and gloves so that she would look relatively normal. "Did you want something?" she asked, exuding superior snobbery.

One of their brows furrowed prettily. "I've been looking for you," she simpered. "The Hogsmeade Skive is on today. You are coming, aren't you? It's darling Andrew's first time organizing one. It's going to be our first too. We're so excited!"

Who was Andrew again?

"See you there!" sang Marion or Suzeanne gaily.

Pansy rolled her eyes and walked away. She could hear them whispering behind her though.

"Gosh did you see those bruises? She's so battered!"

"She just came out of Draco's room, didn't she?"

"Disgusting, they are. At it like rabbits!"

"I heard he brought these special whips home from Durmstrang."

"Like to try them, wouldn't you?"

Argh.

The Hogsmeade Skive was a Slytherin tradition going back generations. Slytherins were just too good and cool to hang out at boring old Hogsmeade during the visits, so they didn't. It was all very secretive and elaborate, done completely with Portkeys all the way to a house or some other comfy, exclusively Slytherin location. Also very illegal – drink, drugs and sex abounded. Just what Pansy needed(well maybe not sex).

The students were assembled in the courtyard before the trip, but this time they were in for a nasty surprise. Professor McGonagall was making the usual "be safe and don't kill each other" speech when Pansy arrived, cleaned up and magically debruised.

Suddenly, something caught her attention.

"..because in the interest of student safety, inter house relationships must be fostered. The pairings of this Hogsmeade trip will, therefore, be between students of different houses."

The effect was electric. They were being forced to tag around with students from _some other house_ all day? The student body exploded into furious chatter. A couple of girls were crying. McGonagall continued, "As we would not dream of using magic on you to make you stay together, we shall have to rely on the honour system. However, if anybody returns or is found without their assigned partners, they will be given a week of detention."

Marion had pretended to faint from shock. McGonagall, having now to shout over the din, began to read the names of the partners.

"…Bones. Parkinson, Granger."

Pansy felt her good mood begin to sink. This wasn't happening. Hermione Granger! Only the most ridiculously spectacular know-it-all who had ever existed! She saw Draco smirking at her, and gave him the finger. He began to laugh.

"Malfoy, Weasley."

He stopped laughing. Ron Weasley swore, very loudly. McGonagall glared at him.

"That's _Ginevra_ Weasley, Weasley and I'll thank you to watch your tongue."

Pansy felt vindicated, slightly. But oh gods… not her!

­­­

An hour later.

Pansy hurried through the streets of Hogsmeade. It had taken an age, but she'd finally lost Goody Granger. Now, where had the bimbo twins said the Portkey was? Pansy concentrated. Madame Pernelle's Peculiarities. The doorknob. She turned the correct corner smiling grimly. She could already see it. She was so close..

"What do you think you're doing?"

A very angry head of large hair now stood in her way, glaring. Pansy goggled, then swore.

"You've got to be fucking joking," she muttered.

"I'm serious Granger, I'm not in the mood, now get out of my way," she growled.

"No!" Hermione said defiantly. Pansy was surprised(but only slightly) at her bravado.

"You think I don't know what you're up to? Where all you Slytherins disappear off to almost every Hogsmeade trip? Well not today, Parkinson. I'm not losing my House Points just because you can't be arsed to…" Hermione continued shrilly.

Pansy had ceased listening, because she could anxiously see the Portkey already glowing brightly behind Hermione. She desperately tried to push past but was shoved back by the Gryffindor. That hurt!

"How you were selected to be a responsible Prefect, I really don't know.." she was saying. The doorknob began to fade.

"Oh, spare me!" snapped Pansy. The Portkey faded further. She was running out of time!

The shrill indignities continued, and the Portkey's magic window of time steadily decreased further and further as Pansy watched helplessly until eventually, unstoppably, it disappeared completely.

Pansy screamed. Hermione recoiled, and Pansy glared. "Happy?"

Hermione stuttered. "W-well you shouldn't.."

But Pansy had already used her wand to draw a circle on a nearby wall. She placed her wand-hand on it. "Andrew?" she barked. The effeminate voice Hermione recognized vaguely as Andrew Cale's filtered through the circle.

"Pansy dearest, wherever have you been?"

"I ran into some Mudblood trouble," said Pansy, taking a perverse pleasure in Hermione's anger. "Is there an alternative Portkey near me?"

"Hmm….yes. You'll need to rush though. It's going in about one minute."

"Where?"

"Rooftop of Zonko's. I don't remember what it is."

"I'm there. Finite incantatem."

She closed the circle. Hermione had regained some of her composure and was already poised to give Pansy a piece of her mind. Pansy cut in first. "No. I've had a shit of a week, and don't even try to ask about it or I'll hex you into next Thursday. Don't think I can't. I need to get out of here and you're not going to stand in my way."

On her way out of the alley, she turned and added, "By the way, give me that Prefect shit again when you've stopped making out with Weasley in our bathroom."

Hermione turned as red as her boyfriend. "That was _one time_!" she hissed.

"See if the teachers think that'll help your Head Girl campaign, hmm?"

Pansy smirked Draco-esquely at the horrified speechless girl before her and strode out of the alley.

A few seconds later, Hermione snapped out of her daze. "Oh shit!" she thought uncharacteristically. God, where had she gone? She struggled to remember, and it came to her. Zonko's! Hermione took off running.

She arrived at the rooftop, panting heavily, and saw Pansy cursing at the air (presumably she'd missed her Portkey). Hermione was relieved then perplexed and shocked to see Ginny bound and gagged on the floor. "Oh my God," she exclaimed, running over. As she magically untied and checked on Ginny, a chair began to glow just behind her. Pansy reacted instantly, rushing towards it. '_Strange,'_ thought the detached part of Hermione. '_It's very late, isn't it?'_

Pansy's eyes gleamed as she grabbed the chair and began to dematerialize. "See you later, Mudblood!" she called gleefully.

Hermione shook her head. That was the last straw. Disposing of the last of Ginny's bonds, she hurried towards the Portkey and disappeared, ignoring Ginny's screams. This was personal.

In fact, Ginny, who had been left there by none other than Draco Malfoy before his own vanishing, was screaming, "That's the wrong Portkey!"

But her seniors were gone, and their Portkey was fading. Ginny was dumbfounded, and started to panic. Should she get help? Would she get into trouble? What if they were getting trapped in some hell dimension where demons would feast on their insides? The Portkey was almost completely gone!

She could only hope she was doing the right thing as she closed her eyes and touched the Portkey one second before it stopped glowing altogether.

Ginny felt the familiar sensation of a litter of rabbits in heat cavorting around in her stomach and her brain being stretched in ten different directions that she always felt during teleportation.

When the colours and images had stopped swirling, she went through her usual process of post-Portkey travel stock taking. She was standing in a very plush, grand place resembling a temple. To her left, Pansy and Hermione were arguing. Red velvet cushions everywhere. Grecian looking urns on pedestals. Pink and red fountains. Blue skies up above(ah, so this wasn't exactly in the same world). And men. Multitudes of young, toga clad, extraordinarily hot young men seemed to be the main inhabitants of whatever this place was. They were tall, built, beautiful and barely dressed. They swarmed her immediately, perhaps a hundred of them, twittering excitedly, sniffing at her, playing with her clothes and staring at her like children with a new toy. Inching backwards slowly, she jumped when one of them touched her, which caused a further fascination with her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Hermione hiding comically behind Pansy from similar molestations. They were still verbally sparring, of course.

Ginny's attention was brought back to herself when without warning, one of them, a drop dead gorgeous brunette stepped in and kissed her full on the lips. Her brows shot up, then her head began to feel light and a pleasant, relaxing tingle began to spread through her body. Her knees felt weak. 'I should lie down,' she thought drowsily. She felt herself being supported from the back by strong arms. The warm lips kept probing gently.

Her body fell limp. Ginny realized she couldn't move. Alarm bells began ringing in her mind. She couldn't breathe, either. 'What…what's going on..' she thought slowly, helplessly. She started to lose consciousness. 'What a…..stupid…way to..die..' she thought, hearing herself getting more and more distant from the world.

Just as her eyes began to roll backwards, she was vaguely aware of being released. Her mind registered pain as she fell onto the ground.

"..and don't pretend you don't understand me!" finished Pansy.

"She's breathing," announced Hermione, thankfully.

Pansy, in the meantime, had begun threatening another of the beautiful creatures, who had turned hostile.

Ginny let herself be enveloped by the darkness, and passed out.

When she opened her eyes, the three girls were in a dark place. It looked like a store room. Broken amphoras, spoiled settees and the like were piled around them. A small, dilapidated fountain stood sadly in one corner.

"Hallo, Gin," said Hermione kindly.

"Where are we?" she asked, still groggy.

"Well," Hermione said, pointedly glaring at Pansy, "Thanks to Parkinson here, we caught a bad Portkey and ended up in some strange party realm. You were poisoned by one of those things. I think they're called dryads. Oh, and she pissed off the resident god and now we've all been imprisoned until further notice."

"Oh. Good."

"Will you not be so counter productive, Granger?" hissed Pansy.

"Excuse me for breathing but it's not exactly my fault that we're stuck in some other universe with no way of getting home, is it?" Hermione retorted, her voice getting higher.

"Oh shut up. If you hadn't stopped me in the first place we wouldn't even be here."

"If YOU would actually follow the rules once in a while.."

"Prefect's bathroom!"

"I'm never going to get my Order of Merlin. No tertiary education. No Daily Prophet editor offer."

A few minutes of bickering passed until Ginny, still weak and tired, raised her wand and muttered, "Silencio."

The pair went from fighting to lip synching. At the same time, they realized what was happening and turned to look at Ginny.

"You're really annoying." She whispered hoarsely. "Haven't you got a single way of going home?"

They simultaneously began lip synching again and Ginny waved them shut.

"Hermione first," she said, lifting the spells.

"No," said Hermione sadly. "Everything I've come up with wouldn't work. I just don't have anything strong enough to go across realms."

"I see." Ginny said calmly. "Pansy?"

"Don't call me that."

"I'm sorry."

Pansy was quiet for a moment. Then she seemed to get annoyed, but she nodded. Hermione looked at her in surprise. "It's an absolute last resort. And you must never, ever utter a word about this to anyone, do you understand?"

"Okay. What do we have to do?"

Pansy sighed. "I'll need Granger's wand. Not yours. You're much too weak."

Ginny nodded.

Silently, Pansy sat directly across from Hermione and cast a circle. She instructed Hermione to hold out her hands, wand out. They joined hands.

"Close your eyes," said Pansy. "Focus your mind."

Pansy began to speak in a strange mix of Latin and Parseltongue.

Ginny listened and tried to understand(she could remember a little Parseltongue from her earlier days).

"In the name of Hecate, of the furies, of the three who are one, of my own power as a daughter of Merlin. By the nameless gods, the ones who were before us, by Aphrodite and by Perseus. Hear me. Aid me. I invoke my right to call upon he who is tied to me by the bond of troth for help. I call. Come. I call. Come. Come to me."

Hermione could feel power surging through her fingertips, flowing throughout her body. It was strange and intense, and felt very ancient, like no magic she had ever performed before. It was a little scary, and quite exhilarating. The pressure built, coursing through the room in waves growing huger in size. Hermione began to feel crackling along her skin. Suddenly, they let out the power. It shot out of the circle, a message being sent out of that world in a massive ball of magical energy.

Hermione and Pansy collapsed backwards, exhausted.

"It worked," said Pansy, slightly relieved. They were all breathing shortly. "He's coming. It'll take an hour or two."

"Who's coming?"

"Help."

Hermione looked down and bit her lip. She came to a decision.

"Look, Parkinson. I mean," she paused. "Thank you." She said in a small voice.

"Sure, whatever."

Ginny had almost fully recovered from the dryad poison and was sitting up.

"Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Look. We're not friends, okay? I'm supposed to be pissed or stoned right now. Thanks to you, I'm neither."

Hermione thought for a moment. "The fountain." She said, making it sound like a eureka.

"What?" Pansy looked at her as if she'd gone barmy.

"The fountain. The stuff that flows from it..it's wine. I saw some of the..things..drinking it just now. I could smell it too."

"But it's broken," said Ginny.

"Well," said Hermione, more cheerful now that she wasn't going to miss her N.E.W.T.s, "Are you a witch or aren't you?"

She inspected it, then spent a few minutes casting Transfiguring spells on it until, miraculously, it began to run. Rich red wine poured from its many tiers and terraces. Hermione smiled self satisfactorily.

"Cups?" she said happily.

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Not bad," she admitted, taking a cup. "Now all we need is some weed."

Shyly, Ginny produced some from her pocket.

"Ginny Weasley!" said Hermione, scandalized.

Ginny shrugged.

Some time later, the three girls were falling all over each other with laughter, drunk as lords.

"And I mixed it with some stuff from the kitchens, so the next day when he woke up, he had mini purple dinosaurs in his hair!"

Hermione and Ginny shrieked in laughter. Tears were spilling out of their eyes.

"You mean like Barney," said Hermione, giggling.

"What..haha..what's Barney?" said Pansy, laughing uncontrollably.

"I wish I'd do that to one of _my _boyfriends," said Ginny, while staring at the wonders of her own hand as it swished around.

"That's the best thing," said Pansy, quite intoxicated, while Hermione took another swig of wine. "Malfoy and I aren't dating. We're not even sleeping together!" she cried, laughing til her stomach hurt.

They burst into laughter again. They pretty much found anything hilarious at this point.

"In fact," Pansy continued as if the punchline to the funniest joke in the world was coming up. "We hate each other's guts! Haha! We're only pretending so that we don't piss off our parents!"

She was rolling on the ground now, banging it with her fist, quite oblivious to the sudden silence and sobriety that had greeted this statement.

Luckily, or not, a portal opened up at that very moment, and a furious Draco Malfoy stepped through, cursing everything under the sun.

"Malfoy!" exclaimed the Gryffindors at the same time, getting up.

"Oh, you too then?" he snarled. He looked down. "What the hell's wrong with her?"

"She's..sort of…drunk.." said Hermione, resisting the urge to giggle.

"Yeah. And high, too." Added Ginny.

"Gods damn it!" said Draco. "Ugh. I should just leave the two of you here. Ah!" he jumped as a sudden jab shot through his body. That was not what Pansy had requested. He rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Bloody stupid magic. It's not like she even knows her name now anyway."

He hauled the still giggling Pansy to her feet bodily and dragged her towards the portal. "Come on then!" he growled at the other two.

They walked through the gateway and came out back in Hogsmeade, inside one of the horseless carriages by which the students could break away from their assigned partners and go back to school. Pansy was asleep on Draco's shoulder. Hermione and Ginny were silent and awkward.

"Alright you two," said Draco, pointing. "Piss off. Remember I saved your lives today. If you tell anyone, especially Potty bloody Potter, I will hunt you down and wring your necks with my bare hands. Do you understand?"

Ginny slapped him across the face, then, hard. "I was going to thank you," she said angrily. She took Hermione's arm and they left to rejoin their friends.

Draco was left with his cheek and pride smarting. Beside him, Pansy made a funny sound and snuggled further into his neck. "Oh get off, you hag." He said, trying to push her off. But it didn't bring him as much satisfaction as usual.

'Damn.' He thought as the carriage began to move.

That's it. Please review. Please! I actually planned some of the rest of it. This is a first!


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